


i hate cards and card shops: a short story

by nightwideopen



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, No Smut, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: Get better right now or else.An ode to Nick’s frustrations while card shopping.





	i hate cards and card shops: a short story

**Author's Note:**

> All the usual players are featured in this week’s nonsense snapshot.
> 
> Here’s Nick’s full Instagram story that inspired this mess [right here](http://twelvegrimmyplace.tumblr.com/post/172587654562).

Fiona brings Nick his coffee after the entertainment news. She never does that. Why is she doing that?

“Have you lost your mind?” Nick wonders aloud.

She gives him an unimpressed look. “Have _you_?”

Nick sips his coffee. Only it’s not coffee, it’s tea, and it’s as thick as honey. It practically falls out of his mouth back into the mug.

“ _What_ the–?”

“Grim, you’re ill. Go home, Clara can finish up for you, she’s already here.”

Nick clears his throat. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He wants coffee.

“Grimmy, you’ve got to go home. You’ve been getting more and more croaky since you walked in. You’re literally burning up.”

Nick swats Fiona’s hand away from his forehead. What does she know? She’s not a doctor. He tells her as much.

“Seriously, I’ll be fine. We’ve got barely an hour left and I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

 _New Rules_ fades out and Nick rushes to get back to his microphone. He knows that the pile of tissues next to his phone and inhaler isn’t too convincing but it’s _allergy season_. He’s allowed the sniffles. And some occasional sweating. His throat hurts a bit but it’s probably from the karaoke on Saturday. He’s _fine_.

+

He’s not fine, and he’s having a full on strop about it.

The fever had kicked in on his Uber home and his arms felt so weak that he had to cancel on Georgie. Even the dogs scratching at his bare legs was more painful than usual. Now it’s two days later and Nick is curled up on his couch in the duvet from his bed pouting at his phone because Louis is being a dick and won’t come over. He needs pop star cuddles.

“I’m writing, Nick. You know, my debut solo album?” Louis’ voice isn’t the same through FaceTime as it is in real life, but it’s close enough. “Surely you understand why I can’t fall victim to your germs. I’ve got millions depending on me.” He gestured dramatically.

“So I’m only one in a million, eh?”

Louis makes an amused sound. “You know, that’s probably the first time I ever heard someone say that in a negative way.” He sounds disappointed but his smirk says something else.

They’re disgusting, the two of them. Nick himself is disgusted.

“Would you just–”

“No!”

“You’re such a brat,” Nick mumbles, “It’s just strep.”

Louis just stares at him, fringe falling into his eyes.

“Alright, fine, I’m _contagious_. But so what? That’s what the antibiotics are–” Oh, fucking hell. “ _Shit_.”

Nick drops his phone into his lap and tips his head back in frustration. He’d groan but it would hurt too much. His voice has already gone far too scratchy, he definitely won’t be able to talk tomorrow if he keeps it up.

“What have you done now?” Louis chides.

“Shut up,” Nick snaps. “I’ve forgotten to pick up my antibiotics but I’m afraid if I stand up I’ll crumble to the ground.”

“That’s awfully dramatic.” Nick rolls his eyes.

“You’ve met me, yeah?”

“Unfortunately.” He drops his chin onto his free hand so that his cheek squishes up. He sounds like he’s serious but a smile infects his face before he can duck away from the camera. “Had to go and fancy you as well, didn't I?”

Nick grins. “Pity.” He coughs and it makes his throat feel as though it’s on fire. “Please come over and smother me with Pig’s doggie bed.”

Louis gets really close to the camera and says, with his perfect little teeth on display, “No.”

Then he hangs up.

Nick wails. Pig howls in response.

+

Someone pounding on his front door startles Nick out of a fitful sleep. The dogs go mad, and the door is swinging open before he can muster the energy to even think about moving.

It’s Louis, hands full with shopping bags from ranging from Gucci to Tesco. A leadless Clifford slips quietly over the threshold and curls up by the fire. Nick nearly combusts at the sight of them.

He gripes instead. “Why’d you knock if you had a key?”

Louis shrugs, and that’s probably all the answer he’s going to give. He puts on his doggie voice, then, and it’s better than Nick’s, if he’s being honest. But if Louis asks, his own doggie voice is far superior.

“Hi doggies, how are ya? Go on, go sit with Cliff. Go on!”

They listen to him better than they’ve ever listened to Nick, bounding over to Clifford’s pliant body in a blur of white and black fur.

He upends an unmarked plastic bag onto Nick’s coffee table. Several things roll off, some collide with candles, and one singular item flops face down onto the table. Louis grabs it from the mess and hides it behind his back.

Nick coughs wetly. “What’s that then?” he asks when Louis makes no move to show him.

Louis is perched on the edge of the coffee table, shaking his head at himself. Nick’s throat has swelled up far too much for him to bother questioning anything at this point. He sighs, sniffling, squinting through his teary eyes at Louis’ carefully styled hair hanging over his eyes. Louis probably thinks he needs a haircut but Nick loves how coy he gets when he can hide behind his fringe.

Louis groans. “Here.” He sticks out his hand to reveal the object behind his back. It’s a card, and he’s holding it face down so that only the white back is visible.

With the little strength that Nick has left, he leans forward to take it. His abs protest and his muscles ache and when he turns over the card he’s faced with large purple and white letters, surrounded by little medicine tablets of all shapes and sizes.

It reads,  _GET BETTER RIGHT NOW OR ELSE._

And when Nick looks up again Louis is holding a bottle of pills with Nick’s name on it and a plastic tub of chicken soup.

It makes Nick’s heart feel as though it’s about to burst. This is new to them, new to Louis, and Nick appreciates every effort that Louis makes to overcome the admitted embarrassment. It’s not that Louis isn’t used to being soft and sweet as a boyfriend, or not used to being soft and sweet with other men. It's not that he’s afraid of being bi. It’s that Louis isn’t used to being so soft and sweet with _Nick_ specifically because they've come so far from scowling at each other when Harry forced them to hang out. They’re not doing this because they want to make their best friend happy. They snog now. _Willingly._ It’s fantastic.

But not right now, because Nick is contagious and Louis has millions depending on him.

Nick laughs. “Come here. I hate you so much, get over here.”

He opens his blanket nest long enough for Louis to climb into. It’s horrible and disgusting but he doesn’t seem to mind, just shyly throws an arm over Nick’s torso and gently rubs at his sore stomach. He uncaps the soup and the pills, carefully reaching for one of the escaped bottles of water that had rolled onto the floor.

“I don’t want to hear a word of it, just take your fucking medicine, alright?”

Nick wants to go on and on about it. But Louis doesn’t want that, so he won’t. He just presses a sloppy kiss to Louis’ forehead and lets him grumble about it.

“Thank you,” he whispers. It hurts but it’s worth it for the blush on Louis’ cheeks and his shy smile. “You’re so lovely.”

Louis looks about ready to punch him, but just shoves the medicine tablets into his mouth instead.

“Yes, I’m the most amazing boyfriend in the whole of England, you _really_ don’t need to go on about it.”

Pig barks in agreement.


End file.
